Friday, October 31, 2014

The family of American Sparrows comprises, besides its namesake species, also plump Towhees and delicate Juncos numbering in all about two score distinct avian species. Of this wealth of "cryptic brown jobs" that grace our land, we shall endeavor to briefly profile a small selection of a half-dozen species that were observed in Fall at Lake St. Clair, Wetzel SRA and Wolcott Mill Metropark:

White-throated Sparrow

Dark-eyed Junco

Song Sparrow

Swamp Sparrow

American Tree Sparrow

Eastern Towhee

We start with the White-Throated Sparrow:

White-throated Sparrow seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

White-throated Sparrow is an abundant species across North America with a population, though declining, estimated at 140 million -- that's almost one sparrow for every two humans in the US.

White-throated Sparrow seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Breeding mainly across Canada, these distinctive sparrows move south to the US in winter.

White-throated Sparrow seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

The yellow lores, white throat and supercilium, black eye-stripe and whiskers are all distinctive identification features of this sparrow.

In contrast to the White-throated Sparrow, the Dark-eyed Junco lacks the complexity of facial markings -- presenting simply a pink bill set against a slate-grey face with a dark eye (compare with Yellow-eyed Junco).

Dark-eyed Junco seen at Wolcott Mill Metropark

The Dark-eyed Junco comes in several races including the Oregon as well as the Grey Headed subspecies.

Dark-eyed Junco seen at Wolcott Mill Metropark

The white flash of the tail (see above) is distinctive as these small sparrows flit about the shrubbery looking for seeds to eat.

Dark-eyed Junco seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Other sparrows observed included:

Song Sparrow:

Song Sparrow seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Not terribly visually distinctive (unlike, say, the spectacular Olive Sparrow which has an unparalleled and unmistakable dark green back); this sparrow, however, more than makes up in song what it lacks in looks. Its stuttered, loud trilling is an indelible musical feature of marshlands in Spring and Summer.

Also observed was Swamp Sparrow:

Swamp Sparrow seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Swamp Sparrow seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Lacking the bold streaks of the Song Sparrow on its chest, Swamp Sparrow is a richly russet sparrow with a white throat and grey, un-striped chest.

Much brighter with a grey face, crisp rusty crown and two white wingbars is the American Tree Sparrow:

American Tree Sparrow seen at Wetzel SRA

American Tree Sparrow seen at Wetzel SRA

A winter resident, these distinctive sparrows are a familiar sight in fields of tall grass and shrubs.

Our last sparrow is a Towhee -- in this case, a juvenile Eastern Towhee that was observed foraging in the leaf litter:

Eastern Towhee seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

This is our (as in those that live in the Eastern US) only Towhee -- a group of large, rotund sparrows that find their center of diversity and abundance in the West and Southwest of the country with signature species such as Abert's Towhee, California Towhee and the very special Green-tailed Towhee.

Bonus bird: a beautiful American Robin set against the red berries of a Hawthorn tree:

American Robin seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

While warblers, tanagers and grosbeaks steal the show with their colorful flamboyance in Spring, the Sparrows gain ascendancy in the Fall as the former scurry away to tropical climes with the approach of Winter's colder temperatures.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

The family of American finches boasts a wide array of finches, grosbeaks and crossbills. Some are truly spectacular -- such as this blogger's personal favorite: the Rosy Finches. However, there's more to finches than the rather small-ranging and hard-to-see iconic rosy finches of the West. And, a prime example of a finch that is both delightful and yet fairly common across all of the US is the Pine Siskin.

Famous for its periodic irruption, Pine Siskin numbers can spike unpredictably year over year; but, the best chance of seeing one is definitely going to be in Winter -- a time when they can range as far down as Texas (eg., in Hueco Tanks) but rarely as far as in Southern Florida.

A quick tour of a couple of choice birding locales -- Wetzel State Recreation Area and Lake St. Clair Metropark -- yielded the Siskin as well as some other species:

Pine Siskin

Ruby-crowned Kinglet

White-breasted Nuthatch

Hermit Thrush

Red-winged Blackbird

European Starling

We start with the Pine Siskin observed at Wetzel SRA:

Pine Siskin observed at Wetzel SRA

Wetzel SRA is open to hunting starting September 1st and during this blogger's brief visit, more hunters than siskins were observed. While the identification characteristics of the former are somewhat more obvious (it's hard to ignore shotguns, orange vests and hunting dogs-in-tow); the latter may be identified by heavy streaking, a thin, pointed bill, a strongly notched tail and a conspicuous patch of yellow in the wings.

Pine Siskin observed at Wetzel SRA

Pine Siskins are both gregarious and noisy; their chattering, buzzing chips are often the first sign of their presence.

Pine Siskin observed at Wetzel SRA

With the Siskin "in the (photographic) bag" (so to speak), this blogger beat an urgent retreat from Wetzel as a result of stern and repeated admonishment administered by the hunters present -- the reason being, and rightly so, for the lack of bright safety-clothing on my person.

Conditioned, as any birder is, by years of trying to blend into the surroundings, sartorial inconspicuousness is, regrettably, a virtue that can prove fatal in the hunting season.

Clearly, "hunting plumes digitally" and "hunting plumes with lead" are vocations that require some important differences in approach.

Ruby-crowned Kinglet seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Unlike the dozen-odd species of finch, there are only two kinglets in the US -- the Golden-crowned and the Ruby-crowned.

Ruby-crowned Kinglet seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

A tiny, olive-drab songster with a prominent white eye-ring and wingbar, this neckless, small-billed feathered wonder, unlike the seed favoring Siskin, is an insectivore.

Other birds observed included the resident White-breasted Nuthatch:

White-breasted Nuthatch seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

This nuthatch is ripe for a split with studies suggesting 3 (even possibly 4) species.

White-breasted Nuthatch seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

The bird shown here would belong to the "Carolina" species if the split were to go ahead -- with a broad, black crown, pale grey back and buffy flanks. Unlike the finch and the kinglet, the Nuthatch is a year-round resident throughout its range.

White-breasted Nuthatch seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Next, a thrush, hiding in the thickets blending in perfectly:

Hermit Thrush seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Hermit Thrush seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

A view of its rusty tail, confirms that this is a Hermit Thrush:

Hermit Thrush seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Red-winged Blackbirds, which have been silent for a couple of months, have started to display and vocalize again:

Red-winged Blackbird seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

And seen here with an autumnal background:

Red-winged Blackbird seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

Derisively termed as a "trash bird", the European Starling is here for no fault of its own:

European Starling seen at Lake St. Clair Metropark

.. .and it has done in its adopted home what Nature demands of it -- adapt and survive.

Winter threatens a slower recreational season with colder temperatures and shorter days but delightful arrivals such as the unique Pine Siskin keep the fires of birding aflame.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Despite the imposing and somewhat mysterious title of this week's blog, we will not be discussing the celestial bodies of a far off galaxy called Certhioidea; neither shall we be discussing world despots -- indeed, the subject of this blog post is decidedly avian.

In the hallowed taxonomy of the Aves, the superfamily Certhioideaencompasses some truly interesting species belonging to the Treecreepers, Nuthatches, Wrens, and Gnatcatchers. We are fortunate that the Gnatcatchers and Wrens are especially well represented in the New World (indeed Gnatcatchers are exclusive to the Americas). Treecreepers and Nuthatches, on the other hand, are much more richly represented in the Old World.

In this post we will review recent observations of species belonging to this superfamily plus a small selection of Tyrant Flycatchers that were observed in SE Arizona earlier this year. Specifically, we will briefly profile:

From the Certhioidea:

Canyon Wren

Rock Wren

House Wren

Black-tailed Gnatcatcher

Blue-grey Gnatcatcher

Pygmy Nuthatch

And, from Tyrant Flycatchers:

Ash-throated Flycatcher

Buff-breasted Flycatcher

Dusky-capped Flycatcher

Cordilleran Flycatcher

The Americas are blessed with a wealth of wrens and while most wrens are cryptic brown jobs, the Canyon Wren breaks the mold somewhat in a smart combination of chestnut, brown, grey and white:

Canyon Wren seen at Sabino Canyon

Canyon Wren seen at Sabino Canyon (river bed trail behind the dam)

One is first alerted to the presence of the Canyon Wren by its incredibly loud song -- a burst of tightly spaced whistled notes that gradually grow longer (and lower pitched) and conclude with a grating squawk.

Canyon Wren seen at Sabino Canyon

Ranging all across the West, our most distinctive wren is a crevice specialist with an uncanny ability to flatten its body to forage in impossibly tight spaces.

Rock Wren seen at Molino Vista

The aptly named Rock Wren, compared to the Canyon Wren, is both stockier and greyer. However, in song, the Rock Wren is equally (and perhaps more) accomplished. Sadly, its population is declining across its Western range.

House Wren seen at Madera Canyon

House Wren seen at Bear Wallow

Our next wren is the humble House Wren. This songbird has one of the largest ranges of any bird in the New World ranging from Argentina to Canada. It is a cavity nester and population trends are fairly stable.

Closely related to the wrens but not found in the Old World are the delightful Gnatcatchers:

Blue-grey Gnatcatcher seen at Rose Canyon

Unlike the Blue-grey Gnatcatcher (above) which enjoys widespread distribution across the US, the Black-tailed Gnatcatcher is found in a small range close to the Mexican border from Texas westwards.

Black-tailed Gnatcatcher seen at Sabino Canyon

While disambiguating the Black-tailed Gnatcatcher from the Blue-grey may be problematic in Winter, in alternate plumage the identification is a cinch thanks to the spectacular black cap and flamboyant white-edged black tail.

Black-tailed Gnatcatcher seen at Sabino Canyon

Described by George Newbold Lawrence (of Lawrence's Goldfinch fame), this tiny bird is a feisty insectivore but, unlike the Blue-grey, it does not hawk insects in the air; preferring instead, to glean them from leaves and branches.

We conclude our brief survey of representatives of the Certhioidea with a nuthatch:

Pygmy Nuthatch seen at Rose Canyon

Competing with the Brown-headed Nuthatch for the title to our smallest nuthatch, this pair were observed next to their nest cavity on the descent to Rose Canyon on Mt. Lemmon.

And now for the Tyrant Flycatchers:

Ash-throated Flycatcher:

Ash-throated Flycatcher seen at Molino Vista
And the spectacular Buff-breasted Flycatcher -- much favored for its exclusivity to Arizona in the US:

Preferring woodland habitat over arid scrub, the Dusky-capped Flycatcher appears otherwise quite similar to the Ash-throated:

Dusky-capped Flycatcher seen at Madera Canyon

We conclude with Cordilleran Flycatcher:

A magnet for those of the birding persuasion, SE Arizona is a treasure trove of stunning species some of which are found nowhere else in the US.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Having meant to publish this post originally in Spring, the esteemed readership of this blog is owed an explanation at to why a post originally conceived in April appears now a full 6 months later in October.

As a matter of fact, the publishing cadence of this birder's humble blogography was hijacked by an explosion of expeditionary birding jaunts starting in April; with trips to:

However, now, with the bulk of Fall migration activity behind us, we are afforded a brief interlude to "course correct" and return this Blog to a more predictable sequence of "observe and publish".

But first, in the next couple of posts, we pick up the thread from April where we report from Southeast Arizona with a feature focusing on Sparrows, Vireos, Thrushes and other assorted species featuring:

Sparrows:

Black-throated Sparrow

Canyon Towhee

Spotted Towhee

Yellow-eyed Junco

Vireos:

Bell's Vireo

Plumbeous Vireo

Thrushes:

Hermit Thrush

Western Bluebird

And, Misc:

Broad-billed Hummingbird

Bridled Titmouse

Verdin

Greater Roadrunner

Gila Woodpecker

Cooper's Hawk

Gould's Turkey

White-winged Dove

We start with 4 New World sparrows:

Black-throated Sparrow seen at Molino Vista

Black-throated Sparrow (not to be confused with the similar sounding Black-chinned Sparrow) is a handsome sparrow of the Southwest. Somewhat unusual for sparrows, its color scheme has no tans or browns -- just grey and black.

Canyon Towhee seen at Sabino Canyon

The Canyon Towhee is a large new world sparrow. Generally inconspicuous, they are more likely to be found on the ground than perched. It, and the similar California Towheewere once considered to be the same species.

Unlike the grey/black Black-throated Sparrow and the tan/brown Canyon Towhee, the next sparrow has a bit of both color schemes:

Spotted Towhee seen at Florida Canyon

Looking like an Eastern Towhee but with spots on the wings, this boldly colored, large sparrow is a common sight in the Western US ranging from British Columbia to California.

Perhaps the most delightful of our sparrows are the Junco's.

Yellow-eyed Junco seen at Rose Canyon

And the most delightful of our Junco's is the Yellow-eyed -- this is our only sparrow with yellow eyes. This Mexican bird barely extends into our territory in the Southern reaches of Arizona and New Mexico.
Now for the 2 Vireos:

Bell's Vireo seen at Molino Basin

Plumbeous Vireo seen at Madera Canyon

Bell's Vireo is a tiny vireo found from the West to the Central US. Interestingly, the color changes from grey to yellow moving Eastward. Thus, the specimen shown here (observed in Arizona) is largely grey with just a hint of yellow.

Plumbeous Vireo, unlike Bell's is altogether grey. If its white spectacles are reminiscent of Blue-headed Vireo, it will be no surprise to learn that they were once considered to be the same species. Of course, unlike Blue-headed, Plumbeous Vireo does show the green that is typical of most vireos.

On the Thrush front, a drab Hermit Thrush seen at Madera Canyon was over-shadowed by a resplendent Western Bluebird:

Hermit Thrush seen at Madera Canyon

Western Bluebird seen at Rose Canyon

This brings us to the remaining assortment of species:

Broad-billed Hummingbird seen at Sabino Canyon:

Bridled Titmouse seen at Madera Canyon:

Cooper's Hawk seen at Rose Canyon:

Greater Roadrunner seen at Sabino Canyon:

Gila Woodpecker seen at Sabino Canyon:

Verdin seen at Sabino Canyon:

Wild Turkey seen at Madera Canyon:

White-winged Dove seen at Sabino Canyon:

"Late", it is said, is better than "Never" and it is hoped that this post of signature birds of SE Arizona provides ample testimony in support of the veracity of the adage.

About Me

The US, perhaps more than any other country, has witnessed a colossal loss of its native wildlife since the arrival of European colonists in the 16th century. When first discovered, this "Garden of Eden" was home to a rich and varied birdlife that existed in such staggering numbers that they literally darkened the skies and carpeted the land in their great multitudes.
Unfortunately, this great bounty of wildlife was subjected to ruthless exploitation at a horrific scale: birds were killed for food, for "sport", for trade, for fashion, for science, for fun. And, this insatiable lust for slaughter, coupled subsequently by other factors, such as habitat degradation, pollution, the introduction of invasive species and an explosion in the number of captive animals (such as domestic livestock and pets) have all collectively led to the extirpation, extinction, and annihilation of untold native species across the continent.
So why photograph birdlife? Only one reason: to document their intrinsic brilliance in an effort to promote their conservation. And, in so doing, to establish a non-exploitative relationship with our avifauna that furthers our understanding of their natural history.

What is Plume Hunting?

Plume hunting was big business in the late 1800's. Unfortunately, the dark side to the beauty of plumes led to the slaughter of millions of birds so women could wear fancy hats (Read about Plume Hunting).

Thankfully, in this age of digitization, we can capture most anything we want -- books, music, video, etc. -- digitally. And, with the advent of digital photography at the turn of the millennium, we can once again hunt for plumes -- but digitally; with none of the accompanying destruction. This blog is dedicated to capturing the beauty of nature reflected through the incredible diversity of our avifauna.

Reproduced below is ecofeminist Celia Thaxter's, "Woman’s Heartlessness" (Boston 1886; reproduced from Google Books) which was published at the time when plumes were worth their weight in gold and many species of birds were fast headed toward extinction:

WOMAN’S HEARTLESSNESSBy Celia Laighton Thaxter

When the Audubon Society was first organized, it seemed a comparatively simple thing to awaken in the minds of all bird-wearing women a sense of what their “decoration” involved. We flattered ourselves that the tender and compassionate heart of woman would at once respond to the appeal for mercy, but after many months of effort we are obliged to acknowledge ourselves mistaken in our estimate of that universal compassion, that tender heart in which we believed. Not among the ignorant and uncultivated so much as the educated and enlightened do we find the indifference and hardness that baffles and perplexes us. Not always, heaven be praised! But too often,--I think I may say in two-thirds of the cases to which we appeal. One lady said to me, “I think there is a great deal of sentiment wasted on the birds. There are so many of them, they will never be missed any more than mosquitoes. I shall put birds on my new bonnet.” This was a fond and devoted mother, a cultivated and accomplished woman. It seemed a desperate case, indeed, but still I strove with it. “Why do you give yourself so much trouble?” she asked. “They will soon go out of fashion, and there will be an end of it.” That may be,” I replied, “but fashion next year may order them back again, and how many women will have human feeling enough to refuse to wear them? It was merely waste of breath, however, and she went her way, a charnel-house of beaks and claws and bones and feathers and glass eyes upon her fatuous head.

Another, mockingly, says, “Why don’t you try to save the little fishes in the sea?” and continues to walk the world with dozens of warblers’ wings making her headgear hideous. Not one in fifty is found willing to remove at once the birds from her head, even if, languidly, she does acquiesce in the assertion that it is a cruel sin against nature to destroy them. “When these are worn out I am willing to promise not to buy any more,” is what we hear, and we are thankful, indeed, for even so much grace; but alas! birds never “wear out.” And as their wearer does not carry a placard stating their history, that they were bought last year, or perhaps given to her, and she does not intend to buy any more, her economy goes on setting the bad example, or it may be her indolence is to blame, one is as fatal as the other. Occasionally, but too rarely, we meet with a fine spirit, the fire of whose generous impulse consumes at once all selfish considerations, who recognizes the importance of her own responsibility, and whose action is swift as her thought to pluck our the murderous sign, and go forth free of its dishonor. And how refreshing is the sight of the birdless bonnet! The face beneath, no matter how plain it may be, seems to possess a gentle charm. She might have had birds, this woman, for they are cheap and plentiful enough, heaven knows! But she has them not, therefore she must wear within things infinitely precious,--namely, good sense, good taste, good feeling. Heaven bless every woman who dares turn her back on Fashion and go about thus beautifully adorned!

In one of the most widely circulated newspapers the fashionable news from Paris begins: “Birds are worn more than ever.” Birds “are worn!” Pitiful phrase! Sentence of deadly significance! “Birds are worn,”—as if that were final, as if all women must follow one another like a flock of sheep over a wall, and forget reason, forget the human heart within, forget everything but the empty pride of being “in the fashion.” Ah me, my fire-flecked oriole, watching your airy cradle from the friendly swinging elm bough, go get yourself an inky coat. Your beauty makes you but a target for the accursed gun that shatters your lovely life, quenches your delicious voice, destroys your love, your bliss, your dutiful cares, your whole beautiful being, that your dead body may disfigure some woman’s head and call all eyes to gaze at her! But no,--that will not save you. Blackbirds are not safe, they “are worn.” Carrion crows “are worn,” unsavory scavengers though they be. No matter on what they may have fed,--they “are worn.” Soar, swift sea-swallow,--I would it could be millions of miles away from the haunts of men; to the uttermost parts of the earth and the ocean carry your grace, your slender loveliness of shape, your matchless delicacy of tint and tone of color, soft, wondrous like gray cloud and silvery snow,--fly! dear and beautiful creature; seek the centre of the storm, the heart of the Arctic cold, the winter blast, they are not so unkind as—woman’s vanity. Do I not see you every day, your mocking semblance writhing as if in agony round female heads,--still and stark, sharp wings and tail pointing in stiff distress to heaven, your dried and ghastly head and beak dragged down to point to the face below, as if saying, “She did it.” The albatross of the Ancient Mariner is not more dreadful. Yesterday I saw three of you on one hat! Three terns at once, a horrible confusion of death and dismay.

Does any woman imagine these withered corpses (cured with arsenic) which she loves to carry about, are beautiful? Not so; the birds lost their beauty with their lives. Today I saw a mat woven of warblers' heads, spiked all over its surface with sharp beaks, set up on a bonnet and borne aloft by its possessor in pride! Twenty murders on one! and the face beneath bland and satisfied, for are not "Birds to be worn more than ever?" Flit, sandpiper, from the sea's margin to some loneliness remote and safe from the noble race of man! No longer in the soft May twilight call from cove to cove along the shore in notes that seem to breathe the very spirit of tender joy, of happy love, of sweet content; tones that mingle so divinely with the warm waves' murmur, with the south wind's balm, and sound in music through the dusk, long after the last crimson flash of sunset has faded from the sky year after year you come back to make your nest in the place you know and love, but you shall not live your humble, blissful, dutiful life, you shall not guard your treasured home, nor rejoice when your little ones break the silence with their first cry to you for food. You shall not shelter and protect and care for them with the same divine instinct you share with human mothers. No, some woman wants your corpse to carry on her head. You shall die that vanity, that "Fashion" may live.

I fear we no longer deserve these golden gifts of God. I would the birds could all emigrate to some friendlier planet peopled by a nobler race than ours, where they might live their sweet lives unmolested, and be treated with the respect, the consideration, and the grateful love which are their due. For we have almost forfeited our right to the blessing of their presence.

But still we venture to hope for a better future, still the Audubon and other societies work with heart and soul, to protect and save them, and we trust yet to see the day when women, one and all, will look upon the wearing of birds in its proper light,--namely, as a sign of heartlessness and a mark of ignominy and reproach.